


Curbside Confessions

by ryankellycc



Series: Burning Deep, Burning Bright [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Backstory, Confessions, Gen, Internalized Homophobia, Loneliness, M/M, New Friends, Summer Vacation, Trans Character, teenagers figuring things out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 08:54:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10590630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryankellycc/pseuds/ryankellycc
Summary: Asahi inhaled deeply. How would he tell the story of the most important friendship of his life, one that had changed him, and, though he chastised himself for being dramatic, one that had saved him. How would anyone believe it, that the universe had conspired to bring the two people together that needed it the most?It was a story that had to be told from start to finish. He set the letter back down on his desk, took out a piece of his own parchment, and began to write.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Warning! There's some accidental misgendering that goes on here, as well as internalized homophobia and family/emotional neglect, so if any of those make you uncomfortable, please do not proceed. I like to think that I addressed them and wrapped them up in the end, but I'd rather not risk your well-being. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this story of two lonely kids finding each other in this big ol' world, in this hp au that I've come to really love. 
> 
> Title from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y6zPHrYpkMw).

Hogsmeade was beautiful in the winter, when the snow piled high on pitched roofs and people bundled up against biting winds. It was the Hogsmeade that everyone saw in pictures, the one that drew tourists from all over the world. 

But Hogsmeade was also beautiful in the spring. Asahi liked to walk by Honeyduke’s when they set up a cart outside to serve custard and shaved ice. He liked being able to prop open the door to Madame Puddifoot’s and listen to the birds, the excited murmurings and shrieking laughter of passersby. 

Secretly, though, the thing he most liked about spring was that he could keep his window open just enough so that Rolling Thunder could flutter into his room and take the spot on her little perch any time she pleased, as she did that afternoon, while Asahi worked up a new recipe.

Asahi took the letter she dropped into his lap and grabbed a treat from the jar on his desk with the other. Rolling Thunder accepted the treat with enthusiasm and Asahi moved close enough that she could stay perched and nuzzle into his shoulder. He scratched the blonde feathers that stuck out from the sides of her head, smoothing them down and watching them spring back up, soft and unruly, not unlike her human. 

He didn’t open the letter right away, choosing instead to cradle it in his palms. He ran the tip of his finger over each stroke of his name, hastily scratched on the outside folds. It didn’t matter how many times Nishinoya had sent him letters, and how many times he had responded; it all still felt like a dream. 

Finally, craving the words behind the folds, he slid his finger under the seal and unfolded the parchment. Asahi followed every stroke, line, and curve of the characters, taking it all in like a photograph. Nishinoya wrote to him in Japanese, which made the letters that much more personal. Asahi liked English, using it with his customers and friends on the Hogwarts grounds, but sharing his native language with Nishinoya made his insides flutter. 

In the letter itself, Nishinoya told him about their upcoming match in Ireland, how he managed to find a Durmstrang shirt and wore it in public, much to the dismay of both his coach and captain (but to Asahi’s great delight, though it surprised him and he’d never admit it out loud), and how he finally outdrank Tanaka and Yamamoto at a pub but was too far gone to enjoy his victory properly. 

The stories might’ve been considered trivial, and they sometimes made Asahi cringe with the embarrassment that Nishinoya never seemed to feel, but Asahi looked forward to them with such fervor that he often read them with a full blush, one that started across the bridge of his nose, spread across his cheeks, and crept down his neck. Sometimes he was afraid that his skin would get so hot that it would scorch the back of his desk chair. 

Towards the end of the letter, Nishinoya mentioned the photo that Asahi sent with his last response, a copy of which was hanging on Asahi’s mirror across the room, and he didn’t have to look at it again to bring the image to mind. 

Suga’s aunt had surprised the Sugawara’s by flying out to France for a visit, and Suga took the opportunity to visit Asahi in Hogsmeade for the first time. It was only a weekend, and they didn’t have time for much, but they managed to watch Nishinoya’s match at the Three Broomsticks, along with Takeda and some of the Hogwarts quidditch players that had started hanging out there after their scrimmage and who had, of course, taken to Suga immediately. The photo itself was taken right after the match ended, in the bar, with him and Suga decked out with all of the Japanese national team gear that Asahi had, cheesy smiles on their faces.

Nishinoya wrote that Daichi had caught sight of the picture, and was about to yell at him for sending people official team gear that wasn’t available to the public (which actually made Asahi yelp, startling Rolling Thunder from her hard-earned nap), but when Daichi had actually looked at the picture, he had stopped mid-rant and just stared. Nishinoya mentioned something about Daichi drooling, and Asahi chided him silently for the exaggeration. He read the next lines over in his head. 

_Daichi-san couldn’t speak for a whole five minutes. Not even kidding! He asked who your friend was, and I told him all about Suga and Beauxbatons and his muggle-talk machine, and then he asked me how you two met and I realized that I didn’t know! Not acceptable, Asahi-san, so tell me everything in your next letter._

Asahi chewed on the inside of his lip and smiled to himself as he finished the letter, which was about a quarter of a page of profuse goodbyes, including _‘Please, please send me another picture of you, and don’t cover your face with your hair like you in the one a couple weeks ago.’_ Nishinoya had drawn a winking face in the margins next to his plea. Next, simply, _‘I miss you.’_

“I miss you, too,” Asahi said with a soft breath. He carefully folded the parchment back along its original creases and, looking both ways like someone might catch him in his own room, held the paper to his chest and leaned back in his chair, eyes closed, like he always imagined he could hold Nishinoya.

Eyes still closed, he thought the letter, about Nishinoya’s captain’s reaction to seeing Suga for the first time, even if was just in a photograph. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense, that Daichi would lose his ability to function. It had happened to him, too, all those years ago. Then, he thought about Nishinoya’s request, the story of how he and Suga met. 

Asahi inhaled deeply. How would he tell the story of the most important friendship of his life, one that had changed him, and, though he chastised himself for being dramatic, one that had saved him. How would anyone believe it, that the universe had so conspired to bring the two people together that needed it the most?

It was a story that had to be told from start to finish. He set the letter back down on his desk, took out a piece of his own parchment, and began to write.

* * *

On the first of August, the last month of summer vacation, Asahi and his parents stood in front of their hotel on the French Riviera, in some town that Asahi didn’t care to remember. He adjusted the backpack on his shoulder, heavy with schoolbooks that were mostly just there for show, and eyed the white facade of the hotel, already feeling the heat prick at his skin and wondering how he would muddle through the next couple of weeks. 

His mother’s words rang loudly in his ears. “A muggle vacation, darling, they’re all the rage! You’ll make so many friends!”

It didn’t matter much to him, where they went on vacation, if they went on vacation. Azumane family vacations were just an excuse for his parents to drink and embarrass themselves, which put Asahi on edge, and the throngs of muggles swirling around them just about pushed him off it. And he wouldn’t make any friends, he never did. 

They walked into the hotel lobby, which had the same giant palm trees indoors as the city did outdoors. His parents pointed, laughed, waved to strangers, and chatted cheerfully with the hotel staff. Everyone, including his parents, seemed so comfortable, like the lobby was an extension of their home, and it only served to increase Asahi’s profound discomfort. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he was around so many muggles and he was afraid of all the things he didn’t understand, afraid of not being able to use magic if he needed to, afraid of being alone in a new place, alone in the middle of so many people, alone despite being with his family. Always alone. His mom beckoned him forward and, on auto-pilot, he followed her to large metal doors that would take them up to their rooms. 

Once they were unpacked, Asahi trudged after his parents until they were outside the hotel again. They pushed him in the direction of the boardwalk with a wad of unfamiliar currency and told him to meet them in the hotel restaurant for dinner that night. 

“Have fun, my darling!” His mother shouted over her shoulder.

His dad shot him a nod, and then wrapped his arm around his mom’s waist as they shimmied in the opposite direction. Asahi didn’t respond, pocketing the unfamiliar currency and watching them walk away until they were out of sight. 

Most teenagers might’ve jumped at the opportunity to spend their parent’s cash in unfamiliar territory, but Asahi was pretty sure this was something out of his nightmares. If he were at home, he would still be alone, but at least he would’ve been able to toss a Quaffle, or ride his broomstick. 

These muggles didn’t play quidditch, and they attended whatever schools muggles attended, and the distance between them and Asahi felt like a chasm. He looked away from the shops to the long stretch of beach. There were a few people throwing a light ball back and forth, or, rather, hitting it with their hands and flinging themselves at it before it touched the sand. 

It looked fun, Asahi thought, so he wandered toward the beach and sat on a bench that overlooked the game, setting his Defense Against the Dark Arts book down absentmindedly. He glued himself to the bench, ignoring the way his stomach growled, until it was time to meet his parents in the hotel restaurant. 

When he got there, he found his parents mingling with a few other couples at the bar. He approached them slowly and moved to get in his mother’s line of sight without having to call her attention. She picked up on his presence out of the corner of her eye and called out to him. 

“Asahi, come here.” 

She motioned between his dad and the other couples. “We met these divine folks today, right next to us on the beach!” One of the men guffawed and pinched his mother on the cheek, making her laugh out loud. She pushed him away with a wink and turned back to Asahi, who had been trying to look anywhere but at the people in front of him. “We’re just waiting on a table, so come back in another hour or two, darling.”

She turned back to the group and Asahi stood next to her for a couple of minutes, fidgeting and shifting his weight. When the group had forgotten about him, Asahi looked for the water closets, somewhere to hide until he was needed, and when he caught sight of the sign above a dark aisle, he followed it. 

At the end of the aisle, he found the water closets to his right, but, on the left, he heard murmuring voices, clanking dishes, and running water. A waiter rushed out and almost barreled right into Asahi, who jumped out of the way just in time to miss him. 

Mesmerized, Asahi walked toward the noises and, when he got to the kitchen, his jaw dropped. The room was filled with people, all doing at least two things at once, whether it was tossing food in a pan, or chopping vegetables, or stirring a sauce. Asahi watched their reflections in the stainless steel pots, pans, and lids that hung from the ceiling. 

It was like nothing he had ever seen before, having only ever watched his family cook put together meals in the blink of an eye with his wand, and he was fascinated. 

One of the cooks caught his eye, a shorter man, tattoos up and down his arms, and dark curls coming out from under his hat. The way his apron hugged his waist made Asahi’s throat run dry. The muscles in his forearms flexed and he stuck his tongue out slightly as he flung the contents of the saucepan in the air, and Asahi was amazed when everything fell back into the pan, enraptured by the satisfied look on his face.

It wasn’t the first time Asahi had been drawn to a man, and it wasn’t the first time he tried to pretend that it wasn’t happening. 

Despite that, and despite knowing that he wasn’t allowed back there, he snuck further into the kitchen, keeping along the edge of the wall, for a better look of the whole room. A burst of fire from the stovetop made him gasp and look away, to the corner, where he saw a large sink, an even larger pile of dishes, and the back of someone clad not in the dull white of the rest of the kitchen uniforms but a colorful pair of boardshorts. 

Asahi assumed it was a girl from the way her long, blonde hair hung down her back, through a bandana. She was shorter than him, by almost a head, which wasn’t surprising because he towered over almost everyone. She shifted on her feet and, when her hair caught in the light, it looked silver. Her back was damp with sweat and she was elbow deep in dirty water. She plucked a dish from the pile, plunged it in the water, scrubbed it, then carefully placed it in the empty sink next to her. 

From what he could see, she didn’t look much older than him, not even fifteen. Asahi didn’t know any other kid his age that worked, but he chalked it up to muggles being different, and, well not really knowing anyone his age. He looked down at his hands, large, calloused only from Quidditch, but otherwise smooth and brown. 

Pans clattered to the ground across the kitchen and Asahi let out an undignified squeak. He covered his mouth, but it was too late. The girl spun around on her heels and, suddenly, they were inches apart.

Facing her, Asahi swore to the Durmstrang crest that she glowed. Everything, the entire room, dulled around her. Her clothing, damp and stained, now seemed dry and clean. She looked Japanese, like Asahi, which surprised him further. He was too stunned to speak.

She must’ve noticed that Asahi looked Japanese, too, because she broke the silence in Asahi’s first language. Relief flooded his system, so much so that he didn’t actually hear what she said, and he blinked dumbly until she drew a breath to repeat herself. 

She squinted up at him, undeterred by his height and natural glower, a scowl on her face. “Who do you think you’re looking at?”

Unfortunately, under her piercing gaze, his previous feeling of relief washed away almost as quickly as it had come. “Oh, I don’t, I didn’t mean to, I was trying to find the water closets?” Asahi managed to point back in the direction from where he came, and he was just about to turn around and run when the girl produced a soapy spoon and pointed it at him as if it were a wand. 

“Customers aren’t allowed back here. You’re gonna get us in trouble,” she warned. The sparkle in her eyes increased at the same rate as Asahi’s panic, and a grin split her face. She motioned to the large stack of dirty dishes. “Yeah, pretty scary stuff. If you help me with those, I won’t rat you out.”

Asahi looked around. Amazingly, no one had noticed him yet. “Really?” He asked. “I, I don’t want to get in trouble, but it doesn’t seem like anyone cares?”

He meant it as an simple observation, but the girl put her hands on her hips and cocked her head, rising to the challenge that Asahi didn’t mean to propose. “They will if I scream.”

“No!” Asahi hissed in a sharp whisper, suddenly conscious of just how precarious his situation was. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help, but he didn’t want to get his clothes dirty before dinner because his parents wouldn’t like it. And, well, he didn’t know how. So he told her as such. 

She laughed quietly and, when Asahi looked up, her face had softened. “That’s cool. I’ll show you. I mean, I’ve been washing dishes forever, so I’m basically an expert.”

Asahi wasn’t sure she should be boasting about washing a dish, and he was curious, but it wasn’t enough to sway him. “I don’t know,” he admitted. 

“Oh c’mon,” she smiled. It was so warm and inviting that he found himself stepping forward. “I’m not gonna bite,” she added. 

Asahi shrugged and took the place next to her by the sink. He tried to follow her instructions to the best of his ability, and he wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but, when she looked at him, she snorted. 

“You’ve only washed one dish so far? Wow,” she whistled. “You really never have washed a dish before.”

Asahi winced. 

“It’s fine, I just,” she bit her lip as she continued to wash, “didn’t believe it. The only people our age I’ve ever met that have never washed a dish have been, uh, nevermind.” She shook her head a couple times and a few strands of silver fell from her bandana. 

“Hm?” 

“Nothing!”

“Oh,” Asahi said, confused. 

She plucked the dish out of Asahi’s hand and put it on the shelf next to the sink. “Pretty sure you can’t clean that one anymore. Grab the next one, okay?”

Asahi nodded and grabbed another dish, and, after a few, he got the hang of it, and he found that he enjoyed it. He liked the motion of the sponge over the plate, the warm water running over the ceramic, and the way his muscles pulled when he stacked them one on top of another. 

When the sink was empty, he was surprised by how good it felt, but his mood hit the soapy floor when he realized how long he had been there, and how hungry he was. 

He wiped his hands on his pants and cringed at the water marks. “I, uh, have to go.”

“Right, yeah. I mean, we’re done anyway.” 

“Okay,” Asahi replied hesitantly. He turned to go, but the girl’s hand shot out and wrapped around his wrist. 

“My name’s Sugawara. Suga. By the way,” she said quickly.

“Azumane, but you, I mean, you can call me Asahi. I should really,” he pointed to the door, “go.”

Suga looked him up and down, nodded, and smiled wide. “See you around, Asahi!”

“See you,” Asahi whispered as he made his way out of the kitchen. He didn’t dare look back; he was afraid that, if he did, he would find out that it had never happened at all.

Over the next couple of days, after saying goodbye to his parents, Asahi found himself wandering back to the kitchen and grew increasingly confident in his ability to sneak into the room. He snuck in multiple times a day, staying to watch the cooks work when Suga wasn’t there, and helping Suga when she was. 

And, a few days later, while he was helping Suga at the sink and allowing himself a little happiness in feeling like he could be of use to his new acquaintance, almost like he was a part of the kitchen crew himself, Suga pointed to a heavy dish and asked him to bring it over. When he did, it ended up being way heavier than he thought, so he leaned back into the stove behind him. All of a sudden, heat flared up his back and he shrieked, dropping the dish with a loud clatter. 

When the initial panic and pain subsided, Asahi refocused his eyes. The pain was still there, but hi back was no longer hot and Suga stood in front of him, panting, a wand in her right hand and eyes wide with terror. She took a sharp breath and stuck the wand under her shirt before anyone noticed. 

“You’re a-” Asahi started to ask, but was cut off by a large figure looming between him and Suga. 

The man crossed his scarred arms across his chest and looked Asahi right in the eye. He glanced down at the hotel logo on Asahi’s shirt and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, sir. Are you hurt?”

Asahi couldn’t bring himself to say anything, knees knocking together in fear, so he shook his head fast. 

This pleased the man, and he sighed in relief. “Good. Now please return to your table, I’m sure your parents are worried.”

With a quick nod and glance at Suga, who motioned toward the door, Asahi scurried back the way he came. He stopped right outside the hallway, though, the image of her pointing a wand seared in his brain, and peered around the door frame. 

The large man was yelling at Suga, who looked down at the ground with her hands clasped behind her back. A shudder ran through him and his heart began to race, but he was taken aback by Suga’s posture. It wasn’t submissive, no knocking knees or shaking hands or teary eyes. In fact, she seemed completely unmoved until the chef told her that it would be just as easy for them to find another dishwasher. 

Suga looked up so quickly that Asahi was surprised her neck didn’t snap. He saw the same panic in her eyes that flashed when his shirt had caught fire. “The kid just wandered in! It was an accident. It won’t happen again, I promise!”

He squinted at Suga, and her eyes dropped to the floor once again. “Consider this your last warning,” he growled.

Suga nodded vigorously and kept her head bowed until the man turned his attention away from her. When she looked up and saw Asahi in the doorway, she motioned for Asahi to go out the back of the restaurant, and he met her by the large dumpsters behind the building.

Asahi didn’t know where to start, so he started to apologize. Suga watched him ramble incoherenly for a couple seconds before sucker punching him in the stomach, hard enough and fast enough that it almost knocked him over. 

“Don’t be sorry, dummy,” she laughed, her mouth stretched into a thin smile. “You were the one helping me!”

Instead of continuing to apologize, or acknowledging the compliment, he clutched his stomach and blurted out the question that burned in his mind, the one that kept him in the doorway when every part of him screamed for him to run. “You’re a wizard?” 

Suga gave him a calculated look and hesitated, rolling her tongue along the outside of her teeth. “You weren’t supposed to see that,” she said under her breath. “No one will believe you, you know.”

“What?” 

“When you tell everything that I’m crazy, or something,” Suga clarified. “They won’t believe you. I’ve been around this area my whole life.”

“No, it’s not that,” Asahi said. He took out his own wand. “It’s just, I’m a wizard, too. I thought everyone here was a muggle?”

Asahi almost had to turn away from the wattage of Suga’s smile. 

“Cool,” she said, the awe evident in her voice. Then, with a laugh, “Definitely explains why you’ve never washed a dish!”

“I guess? But, if you’re a wizard, then why…” Asahi tried to formulate his next question, about why Suga was working in a muggle hotel, and how she got a wand, but he didn’t know how to voice the questions without sounding snotty, or annoying, and anxiety crept up in his throat and held his mouth shut. He motioned to the restaurant and hoped Suga could put the pieces together. Luckily, Suga did.

“I’m a Muggle-born,” she said proudly. 

Asahi’s head jerked back in surprise. He had never met a Muggle-born before, at least one that identified openly as such. It wasn’t officially a big deal at Durmstrang, but, unofficially, no one had ever talked about it. Suga seemed to wear it like a badge of honor, unlike anyone he had ever met, and, after seeing her do magic so flawlessly, he had to ask, “Don’t you go to school?”

Suga looked at him like they weren’t speaking the same language. “Of course I do,” she scoffed. “I work on my breaks, but I’m at Beauxbatons. You?”

“Me?” Even though he had asked first, Asahi wasn’t prepared to answer, and it took him a moment to get the words out, while Suga looked on expectantly. “Durmstrang,” he answered in a small voice.

Suga’s eyebrows threatened to hit the ceiling. “You’re kidding. No offense, I mean, you’re big and scary on the outside, but you’re like a… like a…” Suga made vague gestures with her hands. “Like a giant puppy?”

Someone yelled at the back door and Suga jumped. “Crap,” she muttered. “I have to get back. The dishes won’t wash themselves!” She said it with a smile on her face, like it was meant to be a joke, but Asahi didn’t detect any humor in her voice or expression. He wondered if he was projecting his own sadness at their separation. 

“But,” she continued, “I have one of my other jobs tomorrow, down at street at the beach concierge, near the boardwalk. Wanna meet me there in the morning? We’re super busy this time of year, so I’ll definitely put you to work. Only if you want,” Suga added hastily. 

Asahi nodded to accept the invitation, but it seemed like every time Suga opened her mouth, Asahi had another question. “You work more than one job?”

“Yeah!” Suga said brightly. “And my weekend one is at the arcade, which is totally awesome. Sometimes I can sneak my little brothers in for free games.” Suga puffed out her chest and smiled. “I’m pretty much the best big brother ever.”

He thought he had heard about arcades, but any interest in the subject was replaced by confusion. Did she just say brother? Asahi cocked his head and looked at Suga again, wondering what to say next. He didn’t want to embarrass Suga, or himself, and he didn’t want to screw anything up between them, so he kept quiet. Suga repeated the location of the concierge, set a time, gave him a quick jab to the side, and darted back to the kitchen. 

Sitting down on the same bench he found the first day on vacation, Asahi spent the remaining hours of the day thinking about Suga. 

He enjoyed Suga’s company, that much he knew for certain. She was unlike any other wizard, or person, he had ever met before. He was nervous around her, that didn’t go away, but something about her face comforted him, along with the way she so easily took to him, taught him, laughed with him, and even hit him, oddly enough.

A blush crept up on his face, and he tried to rub it away, which only made it worse. He had never felt this way about a girl before, but something in his gut told him that, even though she was pretty, like, angel-pretty, it wasn’t about her looks. It was about the way she treated him like they had been friends forever.

Then, he recalled the last bit of their conversation, when Suga had called herself a big brother. In his life, at home, at Durmstrang, boys and girls had always been separated by clothing, activities, classes, and address, so no one ever talked about it. They didn’t need to, because it had already been laid out for them. Asahi remembered how he thought about Muggle-borns before meeting Suga, and he almost physically itched with the questions he had always taken for granted. 

From the bench, Asahi’s thoughts ran circles in his mind, and he watched the people in front of him, playing the floating and diving ball game, until the sun began to set. Even after hours of thinking, the only definitive thing he knew was that he couldn’t wait to see Suga again. 

So, the next day, Asahi waved his parents off and went to the beach concierge to meet Suga. He helped her stack chairs, fold towels, refill water glasses, sneak food off people’s plates, and, when the shift was over, Suga produced the same light ball he had seen the day before, and, when she saw Asahi’s eyes light up, explained the muggle game to him. They spent the afternoon hitting the ball back and forth and Asahi’s arms were tender and bruised by the end of it, but his heart raced and adrenaline pumped, just like it did when he played Quidditch. 

After that, it was a given that Asahi would spend his days with Suga, helping however he could, and he learned a lot about the non-magic world, but also about her. He learned that she played Quidditch in the Beauxbatons school league, that she had a big, non-magical family and was the eldest child, that her mom was Japanese and they spoke it at home, but that her mom’s health had never been stable enough for them to visit. He learned that Suga’s dad, who was French, left them a long time ago, and Suga worked as much as she could to help her family while maintaining her scholarship to Beauxbatons. He learned that Suga referred to herself as the man of the house, a badge she wore as proudly as being a Muggle-born. 

There was a lot that Asahi didn’t understand, the working, the big family, the loss of a parent, Suga calling herself the man of the house, and Asahi looked at her as much as he could without being caught, the silvery hair in the sun, the semi-permanent sweat on her brow, the mole under her left eye, like looking at her would help answer the questions that kept bubbling up in his mind.

And, as much as he learned about Suga, Suga had learned about Asahi, which came as a surprise. By the end of his vacation, Asahi was the one that did most of the talking. He told Suga about how both of his parents were Japanese but he had never been to Japan because they were high enough in Durmstrang society to consider anything outside of the area beneath them. He admitted that he was lonely, that his parents wanted great things for him that he didn’t know he wanted, that, in the dark of the Durmstrang halls, he dreamt of playing Quidditch at Hogwarts and followed all of their matches however he could. He admitted that he was afraid. Always afraid. 

The days passed quickly, and Asahi’s vacation was over before he knew it, unlike all previous Azumane family vacations. Asahi met Suga on the morning before he would apparate home and, for the first time he could remember, Asahi felt his gut wrench at the thought of leaving someone. He wanted to stay with Suga, wanted to play Quidditch with her, wanted to talk and ask questions and learn about muggle kitchens and help her wash dishes. 

He voiced all of those feelings out loud. Suga listened quietly, nodding along with each statement, and then whipped a towel at him and shouted, “Negativity be gone!”

Asahi’s heart lept into his throat and, on instinct, he shielded himself from the attack. He looked at Suga in horror, momentarily forgetting the ache in his heart. “What-why… Who even says stuff like that?” he sputtered. 

“I don’t know, actually,” Suga giggled. “Must’ve seen it in a show or something.”

The sun was high in the sky and shone on their faces as the conversation lapsed into silence. Asahi tried in vain to figure out how to say goodbye to the person next to him, the first person that he felt like he would miss, the one that confused him and kept him up at night, that one that had taught him so much in just a couple weeks. Time pushed like a dam bursting. It surged forward, crushing everything in its path. He didn’t want to be alone again. He couldn’t. 

Asahi and Suga sat next to each other on the curb that separated the boardwalk from the beach, and, emotion seized Asahi like it never had before. He wasn’t sure where it came from, but, in a rare moment of courage, brimming with confusion and uncertainty, Asahi leaned toward Suga and kissed her square on the lips, tight-lipped and chaste.

They both jerked their heads away at the same time, matching flushes on their cheeks. Suga touched her lips with a knitted brow. Asahi’s eyes went wide and his heart pounded against his ribcage. It was quiet for a beat, and then they both spoke at the same time. 

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to-”

“Asahi, I-”

Suga smiled strangely. “You go.”

“No, I’m sorry, you?” Asahi stuttered back. He wasn’t sorry, but he didn’t know how to explain himself. There was another moment of silence, and the both spoke again, at the same time, with one rush of breath. 

“I don’t think I like girls.”

“I’m not a girl.”

They blinked at each other, and Asahi spoke first. “I’m sorry, it’s just, I thought, you look…” Asahi trailed off, unsure of how to continue. 

“Like a girl,” Suga finished, kicking the sand at his feet. “I know, but I can’t really say anything. Can’t tell people at school and I don’t want to stress my mom out, so I just stick with the froofy uniforms and other,” Suga motioned to himself, “stuff. For now.”

“But you told me?” Asahi asked.

Suga ran a languid hand through his hair and brushed through it with his fingers, examining the ends. “Because we’re friends, right?”

Friends. The word hit harder than Asahi would’ve ever imagined, or dreamed, and it lodged in his chest. Then, guilt welled up in Asahi’s throat, but he was still confused, and although he felt like the guilt might drown him, he didn’t know what to say to make it go away.

“So, you’re a guy, um, he?” Asahi ineloquently managed. 

Something went through Suga, lighting his eyes, relaxing his shoulders. “Yeah. That’s right.”

Asahi felt like he had done a lot of apologizing that trip, but he wasn’t finished. “Sorry for not saying anything before,” he said quietly, chin drooping to his chest. 

“It’s okay,” Suga said with a smiling voice. “Now you know, and it actually makes me feel better that you know, like, that someone in the world knows. And you just told me you were gay, so there’s that,” Suga pointed out.

Asahi choked. He had almost forgotten he’d said it, with Suga’s revelation and the adrenaline of the kiss, but his nerves took hold and he started to shake uncontrollably. The weight of his confession bore down on him without mercy. It was the first time he had ever voiced it, even to himself. 

Tears burned the corners of his eyes, so he sniffed and brought his hands to his face to hide the tears, like he always did, and he expected Suga to yell at him, or get up and leave, but, instead, he felt Suga’s arm around him and a head on his shoulder.

“You’re kind of a weenie,” Suga whispered, “but that was pretty brave.”

He nodded behind his hands and let Suga hold him, allowing himself to feel small in Suga’s arms. Asahi felt Suga’s face scrunch against his shirt sleeve and his chest heave, as if he were holding back tears, too. 

Suga lifted his head and pulled Asahi’s hands down so that they were looking at each other. His eyes gleamed with tears. “I’m glad I met you, Asahi. Let’s talk during the school year, okay?”

“But how?” Asahi said, his voice cracking. 

“That’s what owls are for! I can use the school owls, but I’m saving up for one of my own. A pretty barn owl, huge and awesome,” Suga mused. 

Asahi smiled, wiping the tears from his eyes, even though they were still coming. “What would you name it?”

Suga looked down at his dirty shirt, the blue of the hotel and seal of the restaurant, a giant shrimp, and he gasped with sudden inspiration. “Crevette!”

“Is that French?” Asahi asked. 

“Yup! ‘Crevette’ is French for shrimp!” 

Laughter bubbled up from deep within Asahi and rumbled through his entire body, weary from the heaviness of their conversation but giddy at the same time. They giggled together for a solid minute, but Asahi couldn’t shake the feeling that he would leave the resort, Suga would disappear, and he would be alone again. 

Suga let out a sharp breath through his nose and jabbed a finger in his chest. “You can quit it with the droopy face, because you’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”

Asahi managed a smile. There was something in the way Suga looked at him, big shining eyes, and an even bigger smile, that made him believe it. “Yeah?”

“Yup. And I’m gonna make fun of you for kissing me, like, literally forever,” Suga added with a mischievous grin. 

Asahi groaned as Suga cackled, gripping his sides with the waves of laughter that ripped through him.

* * *

And the rest, Asahi thought, was history. 

He blew on each page of parchment to make sure the ink was dry before tucking them into a neat pile and setting them on the side of his desk. He would finish the rest of Nishinoya’s letter later, after giving his hand a break. 

Suga’s muggle phone beeped on Asahi’s bedside table, waking Rolling Thunder up from her nap. He read the words on the screen. 

From: Sugawara Koushi  
I don’t know what made me think about it, but remember that time you tried to kiss me?? 

The text was followed by at least fifteen of those crying faces that Suga told Asahi meant that he was laughing so hard he was crying. 

Asahi groaned just as loudly as he did the first time, and he figured he would groan the same way for the rest of his life. It still embarrassed Asahi like nothing in his life ever had, but, as Suga said, they were stuck with each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Yay awkward teenage kisses and figuring yourself out, well, starting to figure yourself out, at least. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Not sure when I'll update this series next, but it's usually in the back of my mind, when I need a break from writing Other Things (cough, deep and dark daisuga longfic), so maybe some daisugas, some more takeda, kagehinas? Time will tell!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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